The Most Dangerous Game Summary & Analysis

The darkness of the evening immediately creates a mysterious, foreboding atmosphere and associates the island with a strong sense of dread. Even Whitney, a courageous hunter of jaguars, is afraid of the island. His comment about the cannibals suggests that it’s too wild and uncivilized even for barbaric people.

Here, Connell establishes one of the overarching themes of the narrative: predator vs. prey. Whitney’s questioning allows the reader a glimpse into Rainsford’s Darwinist worldview that the dominant species naturally prey on the weaker. By refusing to entertain notions about animals’ feelings, it is much easier for him to kill them for sport without guilt.

The sound of gunshots coming from the direction of the island is the first hint that it is inhabited. The gunshot sounds pull Rainsford into the ocean away from the safety of his friends on the yacht. By demonstrating how cool-headed Rainsford remains in an emergency situation, Connell shows readers that he is experienced at survival and possesses impressive stamina to make it to the island. The gunshots and screams (sounds of violence) would make most people shrink away, but Rainsford is drawn to them, expecting that he will safety with another hunter.

Rainsford assumes the blood in the grass is animal blood, and the evidence of a hunter outfitted with a pistol and hunting boots suggests civilized inhabitants, making Rainsford hopeful for food and shelter. The unexpected appearance of the mansion reinforces assumptions about the inhabitants; only people of high society could have a house like that. But such an estate suggests something more: it is a permanent dwelling that undoubtedly required an enormous effort to construct and maintain, indicating that the owner made a deliberate choice to live away from the rest of civilization.

The loaded pistol is an unexpected and violent greeting from such an elegant place, warning Rainsford and the reader that the inhabitants might not be as civilized as their house would suggest. General Zaroff’s name reveals his military background, and the reader is led to wonder why an aristocratic general who lives on a remote island would need the services of a body guard who is unable to hear or speak.

Zaroff’s compliment to Rainsford tells the reader that Rainsford is such a talented hunter that he’s famous for it. In other words, he’s an expert killer. Discussing the killing of animals is considered a gentlemanly pastime, and from Zaroff’s story of his upbringing, the reader knows that hunting is encouraged in young boys, especially upper-class ones. But what Rainsford sees as bonding over a mutual love for hunting has a sinister dimension that he has yet to fully grasp.

Though exiled from his home country, Zaroff clearly had the resources to live wherever he liked, and he chose a remote island. Admitting that his “raison d’être,” or reason for existence, is hunting signals another red flag. Though many men would proudly declare that hunting is their favorite hobby, claiming that killing things is his purpose in life indicates the mind of a psychopath.

His long lead-up to revealing that he hunts humans demonstrates that Zaroff knows killing humans (outside of warfare) is socially unacceptable, and that he rejects society and its ethics. He enjoys hunting humans not despite but because of their capacity for feelings and rational thought. At the beginning of the story, Rainsford refuses to entertain the idea that animals feel anything—let alone that they are able to reason. As a foil to Rainsford, Zaroff openly declares his passion for hunting advanced, intelligent prey.

Here Connell has the characters play around with the blurry ethical lines between socially condoned killing (hunting and warfare) and murder. Zaroff doesn’t see the distinction between killing men as a duty to country and killing them for sport and thinks Rainsford, as an experienced military man, should feel the same. Zaroff’s attempted justification reveals his extreme social Darwinist views: he sees those who are marked as socially “unfit” as fair game for his hunt.

Just as lights guided Rainsford, seeking safety, to Zaroff’s mansion, Zaroff lures sailors to their death with false safety lights. Zaroff’s ironic comment about having electricity and trying to be civilized parodies the concept of civilization, as he possesses all the trappings of civilization but none of the underlying humanity. Just as many euphemisms have been used historically to justify human rights violations of disenfranchised people, Zaroff calls his human slaughter house a “training school.”

Perhaps intending to sound fair, Zaroff reveals the hypocrisy both in his game and in social Darwinist ideology: the playing field is never even, and the circumstances never fair. Though he provides resources to the hunted men, they were never meant to stand a chance against him, and their inevitable failure just reinforces his belief that they were always inferior—and therefore justifiable prey.

Again, Connell underscores the inequality of Zaroff’s game. Choosing between being hunted (with no hope of winning) or being tortured to death is not a choice at all.

Now knowing that Zaroff is a serial killer, the reader must wonder whether this collection is of animal or human heads. Suddenly, the familiar custom seems newly grotesque. Once in his room, Rainsford realizes that he is not in a fancy paradise, but rather a well-disguised prison.

Zaroff blames the hunted man for his own death and for not providing enough entertainment in dying, much as social Darwinism blames minorities and the socially oppressed for not thriving in a system that is engineered to disadvantage them. Rainsford, perhaps unconsciously, also participates in the “othering” of social minorities by assuming he would receive preferential treatment as he is not one of “them.” By forcing Rainsford into his game, Zaroff demonstrates that, whatever the given pretense, his intention is simply to kill other men because he can.

By now the reader has good reason to doubt Zaroff’s promise to return Rainsford to mainland should he win. Rainsford, an honest man, refuses the terms when he could have lied to protect himself, and Zaroff openly rejects social contracts, so there’s no reason to believe he would keep his word anyway.

Knowing that the game is rigged in his favor, Zaroff arrogantly gives Rainsford survival tips. Probably as a psychological scare tactic, Zaroff confidently lets Rainsford know he will pursue him well-rested and with ease.

Connell’s language as the hunt begins associates Rainsford with commonly hunted animals, making the central irony of the story explicit: the formerly celebrated hunter has become prey. Though never having been prey before, Rainsford mistakenly feels confident in his evasive abilities.

Zaroff begins the hunt with another assertion of his thirst for power: he doesn’t just want to hunt Rainsford, he wants Rainsford to realize his superiority as the ultimate hunter. Rainsford gets the message and understands the fear of being hunted, something he previously denied that animals feel.

Finally realizing the severity of his situation and motivated by his fear, Rainsford becomes immersed in the game and starts fighting back.

Increasingly getting better at striking against his attackers, Rainsford shakes his hesitations about playing Zaroff’s game. He feels more desperate now than in the war because there are no rules for what he’s experiencing, and even in war there are some socially agreed-upon rules.

When he realizes that Rainsford is more than a match for him, Zaroff immediately sways the game even further in his favor, signaling that for all of his posturing, Zaroff is a coward. For someone who makes a sport of hunting humans, it should come as no surprise that this man feels no compunction about breaking his word.

Rainsford has just killed a person outside of warfare, but neither he nor the reader is allowed a moment to think about this as he races off again. Ivan, a deaf and mute man, is treated more like a big guard dog in the story than a person, and the narrator treats his death like just another slain animal, leading the readers to question whether the narrator also subscribes, consciously or not, to social Darwinist ideology.

Rainsford has come full circle back to his situation at the beginning of the story—falling into unknown waters. But this time, he’s swimming away from the gunshots and the hunter now that he’s at the receiving end of their violence.

Again, Connell highlights Zaroff’s superficial civility. The opera Zaroff hums is about the human cost of self-serving behavior, but to Zaroff it merely sounds pretty.

Emphasizing Ivan’s treatment as subhuman, Zaroff thinks about his death as an inconvenience, not a moment for grief. He enjoys his material wealth only at a surface level; like Madame Butterfly, Zaroff doesn’t understand the stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, whose writings famously advocated for strong ethical principles and avoidance of material indulgences.

Just as Rainsford felt falsely secure in his hiding spot, Zaroff feels mistakenly safe in his mansion. As Rainsford presumably kills Zaroff, he experiences contentment and satisfaction. The reader might question Rainsford’s crossing of the ethical line he established at the beginning of the story. Perhaps it was in self-defense or vengeance, but Rainsford has just killed a man in his own home and then slept in his bed—and feels nothing but contentment. Connell could be suggesting that when men are separated from a social conscience and consequences, they devolve into brutal violence without remorse. Additionally, since Rainsford won Zaroff’s game and proved himself the fitter man, the reader must question whether the story is challenging social Darwinist ideology or supporting it. The ending of the story suggests that Rainsford may even take up Zaroff’s mantle as a hunter of humans.